Scars and Flaws
by cherri-milk
Summary: She was an orphan. He was a rich kid with everything at his disposal. She had her smiles and her laughs. He had his delusions and his doubts. She had her scars. He had his flaws. A bit of humor, a bit of drama, and a bit of romance.


**A/N**

**Hi, so, this is like my very first story. I'm not that good at it yet. So, uhm yeah. HAHA. It's definitely Amy x Ian with a hint of Dan x Nat. I just really hope you like it. I'm not much of an expert at English, there might be misspelled words or wrong grammars, forgive me. Constructive criticism is great, if you have any tips for a beginner, it would be very appreciated. Tell me if you like it. Oh, and please review. **

**Disclaimer : I don't own the 39 clues. I'm just a fangirl, sorting out her feels by making fan fictions.**

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_**The girl stared at the glass in front of her. Touching the glass and leaving perfect small marks of her fingers. She was dressed in white. White sandals, white dress, white flowers decorated her reddish blond hair, translucent, pale skin, and beautiful innocent green eyes.**_

_**Naivety graced her features and a dozen expressions danced her face. She looked sad, she looked like she cried, she looked happy, she looked lonely, she looked angry, she looked scared, and she looked so joyful, she looked so mad, all at once. A tear fell. But she wiped it off before anyone would see. **_

"_**Amy?"**_

_**She turned and she saw him. Parted her pink lips, and said, "Ian.., why?" Her eyes widened for a second and she fell, dropping on her knees, and slumped forward.**_

_**She looked so surprised. **_

_**She looked so dead. And in fact, she was.**_

_**He'd shot her, right in the chest, why wouldn't she?**_

_**Whispers filled the air, It sounded so melancholic, repeating words, all over and over again. "Ian.., why?"**_

* * *

**HE** shot right out of bed. Breathing heavily, and panting. He looked at the expensive clock he'd gotten at an auction. It read **[13:15 AM E. MORNING: LONDON].**

He hated it. He really, really hated it. Each day he'd wake up at exactly **13:15 AM** in the morning. Waking up from a nightmare. Yesterday he dreamed about his sister, _Natalie._ _Shot dead, exactly at the chest by him_. The day before that, it had been his _fiancé,_ _Sinead. __Shot dead, exactly at her chest_, _culprit?_ HIM. He'd wake up panting, looking at the clock that unsurprisingly read 13:15 in the morning.

His dream wasn't any different, the shooting part at the chest, slumping forward, dead. But, the girl he'd shot wasn't even familiar to him. He hadn't seen her anywhere. And yet, he knew her name, he called her by name, as if they knew each other from somewhere, which definitely confused him. He doesn't know her. But, in every dream he'd have, nobody had called him by his name. Not Natalie, not Sinead. He wondered what could've made that girl different. Seriously speaking, she had been quite lovely. Porcelain skin, emerald eyes, pink lips. She wasn't lovely; she was over the top gorgeous. He frowned, and got out of bed. Wore a decent looking robe. He wasn't like this,(he usually considers his clothing a must. Custom made pants, polo's, robes, suits, coats, tuxedos, from every high selling brand,) and yet he was too concentrated to bother. He couldn't get that girl out of his head.

'_What is happening to me? It has been only three days of this nightmares and I'm a wreck. __**NONSENSE.**__ Ian Kabra, is never a wreck. I am organized, dutiful, dedicated to my mother, has the best fiancé I would ever have, has an annoyingly, beautiful sister that boys swooned over. Just like me. I wouldn't lose my head some girl I just met. For all I know, she might not even exist. She might just be a figure of my imagination, due to stress. I'll forget about her a few hours later. And there are other girls there. My mind will be too occupied to dwell to that girl I've dreamed. She wouldn't even have crossed my mind. Nothing happened. Nothing ever will.'_

He merely shrugged and got ready to go to work (even though his work didn't start for at least 7 hours.), 13:22 in the morning. -At least he had something to do- Even though he would certainly look like a fool sitting at the couch after his bath. He didn't care. He could go somewhere to spend time. Or just relax. Everything just for the sake of that dream.

EVERYTHING

After he was done, dressed in a midnight black suit which complemented his silky black hair very well. And brought out the amber in his eyes. He stepped out of his door, of the gate, to his car. He might as well do a little exploring. He smirked, and drove away.

* * *

_**She was staring wistfully at the magnificent coffin that lay on top of a table. The table was a master piece, of course. Just the best for every Cahill, enemy or not. When her mother and father had died, their coffins were grand. Carvings that must've taken at least a year to create. Designed to perfection. Designed for perfection. It was tradition to wear white in every funeral she'd been to. Mostly because they were all Cahills. It was best to approach the dead with purity and innocence and pray for them still.**_

_**She certainly didn't know what to feel. It was Grace's funeral after all. At first, she felt a bit happy. Rejoicing for her beloved grandmother is no longer suffering. Has no more problems. Free or everything, and of anything. Then she felt sad. She felt angry, lonely, joyful, stressed. She didn't exactly know what to feel anymore.**_

_**She sighed. A tear threatened to fall, but she wiped if off before **_

"_**Amy?"**_

_**She turned to see a guy. Beautiful black hair that stood out from all the white. Mesmerizing amber eyes that terribly reminded her of cinnamon. Fairly tanned skin, Just the right color. She liked it. Before she could reply, A minimal force surprised her. **_

"_**Ian.., why?"**_

_**She slumped forward, blood spreading out quickly. He'd shot her in the chest. Right in her beating heart. She'd be a sparrow. She'd be a bird. In a few minutes, she would certainly be dead. She made no effort, and waited for the end.**_

_**At least, at least.. I'll.. be… with.. them.**_

* * *

She woke up with a start. Out of breath.

Those dreams happened frequently. So far, she had learned how to ignore it. Though it never failed to freak her out whenever that happened. She counted 1 to 10. Calming her nerves down. She can't break down. She's been through a lot. She felt as if that she had no authority to ever cry ever again. She felt weak. She didn't want to be weak. She can't afford to be weak. For Dan. He's the only thing that keeps him smiling. He might be absolutely annoying, or absolutely stupid, but that's what made him Dan.

She looked at the poor clock beside her bed. It read **[13:15 AM E. MORNING; LONDON]**. She mentally groaned. There was no sleeping for her now. She might as well stand up and do something. If its something she learned, its that whenever she woke up at extremely early hours, it was impossible to fall asleep.

'_Must this, happen every single morning? There's nothing wrong with me? Or is there? I hate answering my questions with questions. I might be smart, but I am quite stupid concerning with the things I feel. It's horrendous. I hate it.'_

'_Ian. Who was this Ian? I have never seen him before, ever. In my 16 years of living, I haven't met anyone that hot, errr, anyone with the name Ian. None. Who could that be? Maybe I'm just too stressed out and begin to dream about hot guys and funerals.'_

She stood up and put on jeans and a large t-shirt, tied her reddish blond hair in a ponytail, and put a cap to obscure her face. She headed for the door, opened it, and stepped out into the early darkness.

I was running. Running and running, to the right, to the left, straight, forward, no time to lose, get lost, climb that fence. I've been running away, since I got out of her cage. She didn't know from who, from what. She just kept on running. She ran and ran, until her breath hitched, until her lungs collapsed, until she fell down on her knees. She stopped, breathed in a lungful of air. And exhaled. It felt so good to be free.

She look at the place her feet had taken her. It was breath taking. She took another breath and looked at the beauty of the scene that unfolded in front of her. She smiled a little, until that smiled turned to a grin, into a laugh. It would've been awkward if someone was there with her.

No one was. _Her humiliating ways spared her._

Thank God.

"**Are you okay?"** an unknown voice said.

Her eyes widened. _'Whoops, maybe not.'_

'_So much for humiliation abandoning its terrifying ways.' She thought. _

She turned around.

"**U-uh, i-is some-someone tt-here?"** she stuttered.

"**That someone might be me."** The voice replied.

It was husky, a bit low. It sounded comforting to her.

"**Could you please walk into the light, I can't see you."**

"**Oh yes, of course. I'm very sorry."**

The person stepped into the light. She couldn't believe her eyes.

She choked on her words, and ran away.

_Surely, I was only hallucinating._

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**A/N:**

**Sooo, did you like it or what? Just argh. Ohmy. Remember, Constructive Criticism is greatly needed, and appreciated. Thank you very much.**

**And if you could also include a few of your favorite stories (in any fandom, If you like, you could check out mine in my super long profile, as well as my OTP's) and your favorite authors, just to help me settle in the FFNet. **

**Thank you. :)**


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